"The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name." -William Shakespeare
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Summer Air
Not an inkling of demise
Is hidden 'hind these summer eyes
That laugh and play without a care
and lose themselves in summer air
'Cause summer sings a different song
Where cold and bitter don't belong.
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